Old and Grey
by HecateA
Summary: As the dust settled after the Battle of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall has a choice to make about her next step. Pomona can't make it for her, but promises that she'll be there.


**Author's Note: **I saw a tumblr post floating around a while back (granted, it may have been from 1500 BCE) about how awful the Battle fo Hogwarts must have been for the staff to witness and… well, here we are.

**Disclaimer: **The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

**Warnings: **Canon character deaths; grief

* * *

**Stacked with:** MC4A; Sky's the Limit; Flouting Regulations; Remains of War; Eternal Rhapsody

**Individual Challenge(s): **More than England; Gryffindor MC; Hufflepuff MC; Seeds; Golden Times; Old Shoes; Themes and Things A (Love); Themes and Things B (Loss); Trope it Up C (Secret Relationship); The 3rd Rule; Ethnic and Present; Rian-Russo Inversion (Y); In a Flash

**Representation: **Sprout/McGonagall; Battle of Howarts

**Bonus challenge(s): **Brooms Only; Clio's Conclusion; A Long Dog; Unicorn; Second Verse (White Dress); Chorus (Bee Haven)

**Tertiary bonus challenge: **Affirmation; Satisfaction

**Word Count: **783

* * *

**Old and Grey **

"You'll take it, won't you?"

Minerva spun around to the source of the noise. It was Pomona, standing in the doorway of her office, robes still ruffled and dusty from the battle and violence and madness of the night.

"Take what?" Minerva asked, still feeling shaken.

"The Headmistress position," Pomona said simply. "When they offer it to you."

Minerva didn't know what to respond. She just looked around her office.

"I'd come here to pack my things and leave," Minerva admitted. "I… I felt something break in me, when I saw Harry like that."

"I think it broke us all a little bit—at least when it happened first," Pomona whispered. "And I know you were closer to him than most of his teachers… and to his parents, too…"

Minerva shook her head, and wiped at his eyes. "Do you remember that time James Potter walked in, clutching new flight plans for the Quidditch team, and saw us kissing?"

Pomona laughed. "I do. What a face he made."

Minerva nodded again, but the memory turned sour as it weighed down the thing in her chest she'd been ignoring all year—since Albus died, since the world changed, since the school became unrecognizable…

"We saw so many of our students dead today," Minerva said. "Generations of witches and wizards and wix we poured our hearts and souls and whatever wisdom we could all muster in. Gone just like that. On both sides—we taught students that joined both sides. What did we do so wrong? Although I don't suppose it matters now. They're gone."

"Gone," Pomona whispered. Tears swam in her eyes. She rubbed at them. "So senselessly."

"Senselessly," Minerva nodded. "I came up here to pack up my office and go. I… I couldn't stomach the thought of going through it again. I'd seen James die, and then I thought Harry… Did you know Remus had just had a son?"

"No," Pomona said. She shook her head, chewing her lip which trembled anyways. "I… I didn't. Oh, and Tonks was also amongst the dead…"

"I didn't know," Minerva said. "I'd lost track."

They were quiet for a moment. A minute, to be precise.

She took a deep breath.

"But we won't have to go through this again," Pomona said. "It's over."

"That's what we said last time," Minerva said.

"Okay. And it's what we'll say after the next tragedy, and maybe the one after that depending on how long we've got left to be old and grey," Pomona said. She drifted across the room. "What's the point of doing anything if you're just waiting for the next thing to go wrong? Of course one will come, but we've got to go."

"You're right," Minerva said quietly. "As per usual."

"Right answer," Pomona smiled half-heartedly.

Minerva granted her a smile back and took her hand.

"I looked around my office and all these things and all these books, and I realized that I can't go," Minerva said. "To borrow your phrasing, I'm old and grey. I've seen things, yes, but that means I know how to rebuild. You do as well, but what were you thinking of doing?"

"Staying," she said. "Neville Longbottom isn't quite ready to teach, you see. I have to give him a few more years but I am quite sold on having him replace me."

"I think I have a few more years in me," Minerva said. "And yes. I will take the Headmistress position, should it be offered to me."

"It will be," Pomona promised.

She brought her hand to her lips and kissed softly.

"Mona," Minerva said. "Whatever's next, I would want you near."

"Of course," Pomona said. "Why would you ask, Minerva? We've always been at each other's side."

"I don't doubt you," Minerva said. "But thinking back to poor James Potter has me thinking of the generations of students we've traumatized in some way. I think we can manage an even grander surprise."

"I'm all ears," Pomona smiled.

"Marry me," Minerva said.

Pomona's smile dropped. Minerva wrapped her arms around her waist.

"We're old, we're grey, and we'd look so good in white," Minerva said. "I think part of rebuilding is leading by example. Building things you're proud of; cementing the good in this world to prove that it's there. And also I think it's about time we received joint accomodations in this castle."

Pomona laughed. Her arms wound themselves around Minerva's neck.

"We've never needed this before," Pomona said.

"No, but I want it," Minerva said. "Do you?"

"I do," Pomona said. She leaned forward and kissed her. "I do, I do, I do."

"Don't wear it out quite yet," Minerva laughed. "We have a lot to do."


End file.
